The woman said to Him, “I know that Messiah is coming” (who is called Christ). “When He comes, He will tell us all things.”Jesus said to her, “I who speak to you am He.”
JOHN 4:25–26
HER EYES SQUINT against the noonday sun. Her shoulders stoop under the weight of the water jar. Her feet trudge, stirring dust on the path. She keeps her eyes down so she can dodge the stares of the others.
She is a Samaritan; she knows the sting of racism. She is a woman; she’s bumped her head on the ceiling of sexism. She’s been married to five men. Five. Five different marriages. Five different beds. Five different rejections. She knows the sound of slamming doors.
She knows what it means to love and receive no love in return. Her current mate won’t even give her his name. He only gives her a place to sleep.
On this particular day, she came to the well at noon. Why hadn’t she gone in the early morning with the other women? Maybe she had. Maybe she just needed an extra draw of water on a hot day. Or maybe not. Maybe it was the other women she was avoiding. A walk in the hot sun was a small price to pay in order to escape their sharp tongues.
“Here she comes.”
“Have you heard? She’s got a new man!”
“They say she’ll sleep with anyone.”
“Shhh. There she is.”
So she came to the well at noon. She expected silence. She expected solitude. Instead, she found one who knew her better than she knew herself.
He was seated on the ground: legs outstretched, hands folded, back resting against the well. His eyes were closed. She stopped and looked at him. She looked around. No one was near. She looked back at him. He was obviously Jewish. What was he doing here? His eyes opened, and hers ducked in embarrassment. She went quickly about her task.
Sensing her discomfort, Jesus asked her for water. But she was too streetwise to think that all he wanted was a drink. “Since when does an uptown fellow like you ask a girl like me for water?” She wanted to know what he really had in mind. Her intuition was partly correct. He was interested in more than water. He was interested in her heart.
They talked. Who could remember the last time a man had spoken to her with respect?
He told her about a spring of water that would quench, not the thirst of the throat, but of the soul.
1. Whom did Jesus call “blessed” in Matthew 5:6? What does it mean? What are the promises for living this kind of life?
2. Others spoke of their longing for God as thirstiness—especially David. In each of the following psalms, what is that longing for God specifically compared to?
Psalm 42:1–2
Psalm 63:1
Psalm 107:9
Psalm 143:6
3. Does God leave us wanting when we thirst after him? Of course not. What does he promise in Isaiah 44:3?
4. In John 4:13–15, Jesus tells the Samaritan woman of “water springing up into everlasting life,” but this isn’t the only time he mentions living water.
• What does Jesus teach in John 6:35?
• In John 7:37, what invitation does Jesus offer?
• What does the Lord promise in Revelation 21:6?
And the Spirit and the bride say, “Come!” And let him who hears say, “Come!” And let him who thirsts come. Whoever desires, let him take the water of life freely.
REVELATION 22:17
That intrigued her. “Sir, give me this water so that I won’t get thirsty and have to keep coming here to draw water” (John 4:15 NIV).
“Go, call your husband and come back” (v. 16 NIV).
Her heart must have sunk. Here was a Jew who didn’t care if she was a Samaritan. Here was a man who didn’t look down on her as a woman. Here was the closest thing to gentleness she’d ever seen. And now he was asking her about . . . that.
Anything but that. Maybe she considered lying. “Oh, my husband? He’s busy.” Maybe she wanted to change the subject. Perhaps she wanted to leave—but she stayed. And she told the truth.
“I have no husband” (v. 17 NIV). (Kindness has a way of inviting honesty.)
You probably know the rest of the story. I wish you didn’t. I wish you were hearing it for the first time. For if you were, you’d be wide-eyed as you waited to see what Jesus would do next. Why? Because you’ve wanted to do the same thing.
You’ve wanted to take off your mask. You’ve wanted to stop pretending. You’ve wondered what God would do if you opened your cobweb-covered door of secret sin.
This woman wondered what Jesus would do. She must have wondered if the kindness would cease when the truth was revealed. He will be angry. He will leave. He will think I’m worthless.
If you’ve had the same anxieties, then get out your pencil. You’ll want to underline Jesus’ answer.
“You’re right. You have had five husbands, and the man you are with now won’t even give you a name.”
No criticism? No anger? No what-kind-of-mess-have-you-made-of-your-life lectures?
No. It wasn’t perfection that Jesus was seeking; it was honesty.
5. What assurances can the honest find in Psalm 32:5?
The woman was amazed.
“I can see that you are a prophet” (v. 19 NIV). Translation? “There is something different about you. Do you mind if I ask you something?”
Then she asked the question that revealed the gaping hole in her soul.
“Where is God? My people say he is on the mountain. Your people say he is in Jerusalem. I don’t know where he is.”
6. Jesus tells her things only a prophet would know. What does Psalm 44:21 say the Lord knows?
7. If he knows this much, perhaps he can tell her more. The Samaritan woman is seeking. Her heart yearns for living water. Her soul cries out to find God. Her prayer might have echoed Psalm 139:23 at this moment. What does this verse invite God to do?
Behold! My Servant whom I uphold, My Elect One in whom My soul delights! I have put My Spirit upon Him; He will bring forth justice to the Gentiles. He will not cry out, nor raise His voice, nor cause His voice to be heard in the street. A bruised reed He will not break, and smoking flax He will not quench; He will bring forth justice for truth.
ISAIAH 42:1–3
I’d give a thousand sunsets to see the expression on Jesus’ face as he heard those words. Did his eyes water? Did he smile? Did he look up into the clouds and wink at his father?
Of all the places to find a hungry heart—Samaria?
Of all the Samaritans to be searching for God—a woman?
Of all the women to have an insatiable appetite for God—a five-time divorcée?
And of all the people to be chosen to personally receive the secret of the ages, an outcast among outcasts? The most “insignificant” person in the region?
Remarkable. Jesus didn’t reveal the secret to King Herod. He didn’t request an audience of the Sanhedrin and tell them the news. It wasn’t within the colonnades of a Roman court that he announced his identity.
No, it was in the shade of a well in a rejected land to an ostracized woman. His eyes must have danced as he whispered the secret.
“I am the Messiah.” 